Absolute Reign
by CarishTale
Summary: AU. Harry wakes up with his horcrux alive. Little did he know that his awakening in a foreign world will affect everybody's lives greatly. And it's not exactly for the better. Pre-Avengers.
1. Beginning: Hogwarts

**Disclaimer****: I own nothing. **

**Warnings****: Character Death. Violence. **

**o.o.o.o.o**

Cold and dark were the two only words that could describe the atmosphere emanating from the Forbidden Forest. Nothing new in this development, however, seeing the fire burning bright which separated the side of the Death Eaters made no improvement at the eerie ambience. It seemed that no amount of intensity a fire could amass would ever brighten the woodland.

From the other side of the clearing, behind their feared leader, the Death Eaters stood. They gave the area apprehensive glances yet their stature defined them relaxed. They almost seemed to be scared completely different from what Harry was feeling.

Opposed from the Death Eaters was Harry. Hidden he may be from all eyes under his cloak, but his emotional state was rolling off like an ocean washing the shores. Anger and suffering were the main feelings he had. He loathed Voldemort more than anything else for killing his first friend. Hagrid. The soft-hearted, creature loving giant.

No mercy was shown that time. Hagrid blocked the army's way towards Hogwarts, trying to help in winning this war. It caused him his life and now he was gone.

Harry's ear pricked as it caught Voldemort speaking. Killing the Dark Lord now would do him no good which left him no choice but to glare.

"It seems I was mistaken…" Voldemort said. His voice clear with faint disappointment as Harry saw his nemesis' blood red eyes examined the field, evidently looking for him.

This was it. Long had been the Boy-Who-Lived anticipated this day to come – his final battle with the Dark Lord that put him into a state of misery and stress over the past months. Was this really Harry Potter's destiny? The _destiny _which that blasted prophecy stated? Had it been someone else, Neville for one, would he have enough strength to face this long awaited confrontation?

_Lub-dub_

_Lub-dub_

Harry felt numb, his heartbeat pounding unto his chest. He could even hear the of his blood flow travel as myriad of emotions flooded over his body, remaining him unable to move. It left him no other option as he stood facing Voldemort's faithful followers who seemed to be afraid hearing their lord talk.

But nobody mattered but Voldemort. It was just the two of them. It was now or never.

Gulping his throat dry, Harry drew a slight intake of breath in a manner to calm his jittering nerves. It was the moment they've all been waiting for. With all the force Harry could muster, he spoke clearly.

"You weren't." Those words rang through the forest encrusting the deep tension existing at present. The Resurrection Stone slipped past from between his cold fingers, letting the illusion dissipate and eventually vanish revealing nothing but Harry Potter himself.

_Lub-dub_

_Lub-dub_

It caused spontaneous reactions. There were many cries, gasps and laughter coming from the opposite party but Harry paid no mind to the group's assorted response, just the sonorous pounding of his heartbeat.

Harry watched as Voldemort started to saunter towards him, smooth and graceful that all aristocrats seemed to possess. The atrocity gleaming on those red eyes caught Harry's attention as he stood completely still as if as though he was a prey of a sadistic predator prepared to tear him to pieces, although, Harry was absolutely sure that his nemesis would kill him quick as possible for his plans to be removed of any nuisance.

He needed to die. Harry knew that, but he could not help to fear of what might come to pass. Now that his friends looked him for support and help.

No one moved. However, Harry could see it in everybody's faces the anticipation of this battle. Bellatrix looked eager enough that the mad grin plastered on her face widened to an extent, bloodlust evident on her brown eyes that would've been lovely if she weren't insane.

_Lub-dub._

_Lub-dub._

Harry drew off his view somewhere apart from the Dark Lord. Unfortunately for him, his emerald gaze landed on the snake. Nagini, Voldemort's another horcux. She was caged, coiling and uncoiling, patiently waiting for something to happen.

Harry could kill that blasted snake to end to this war. Easy as pie? No. Fate never liked Harry from the start, so why would Fate present Harry an easy kill? Nagini was well protected, obviously. If Harry were to draw his wand, dozens of curses would fly at him rendering him captured, injured or hurt and his mission unaccomplished and his precious ones dead.

Voldemort tilted his head a little to the side as if curious, a mirthless smile forming on his lipless mouth. He spoke softly; almost a whisper gone by the wind but Harry's ear caught the words nonetheless.

"Harry Potter."

Shivers ran down to Harry's spine as he anxiously waited for something, anything at all, to happen just to delay his impending death. Harry knew that he needed to die for the Light to win but will he survive? Surely he would, Dumbledore would not have gone to extreme lengths to manipulate Harry and ensure that this fight would be the fight they would win.

"The Boy Who Lived."

_Lub-dub._

_Lub-dub._

None of the Death Eaters moved, holding their breaths as they too waited. Voldemort raised his hand, his wand held loosely as the Dark Lord appeared to be admiring his wand with a delicate look. His heart skipped a beat when the two caught each other's eyes. It was as if the time paused, offering both sworn enemies a momentary stare of as a pair of loathsome eyes clashed to a pair of blazing emerald orbs.

Then all of the sudden, total silence covered the area. The pressure in Harry's ear pop as his frightening feeling deescalated into nothingness. It was gone. He felt voided and hollow, an empty shell. Everything was gone and black. The only thing Harry James Potter last saw was the jet stream of green light, the Killing Curse.

His heart ceased to beat.

…_dub._

**o.o.o.o.o**

The Death Eaters paid their outmost attention to their Dark Lord Voldemort, eagerness filled each and everyone's eyes that it gleamed to the orange hue emanating from the fire. The surroundings were quiet, sharing a part to the tension in the vicinity.

However, such eerie silence was soon disturbed as Voldemort exclaimed.

"AVADA KEDAVRA!" Abrupt yet strong was his voice, brimming with barely collected enthusiasm as he eyed his prey. A smile begun to form as Voldemort's features heighten, he seemed to be impatient as green stream of light gushed forth the moment Voldemort casted off his curse. With a swiftness matching an arrow from a bow fly, the Killing Curse sped forward in Harry's direction.

It hit Harry. It made the Dark Lord cry.

Sharp, high-pitched sound pierced the Forbidden Forest in a manner that would suggest intense pain. Crows and Ravens fled from their habitats, squawking in indignation showing their displeasure at the sudden disturbance.

The Death Eaters were taken by surprise seeing their lord dropped in pain. Bent and kneeling on the ground, Voldemort gripped the forest grass as tight as his gaunt hands could. His scream made his throat sore. His pants gave everyone the impression of someone suffering a fit as Voldemort's faithful servants approached him.

Never had they seen their lord this openly harmed.

"My lord…" Bellatrix said, her voice spoke as if to a lover. She kneeled beside Voldemort, apparent worry displayed her expression. Her want to help made her reach a hand to assist her lord. "My lord let me–"

"I do not require assistance." Voldemort hissed coldly. Getting up to his legs, he put past his pain and he inquired, "The boy… Is he dead?"

Voldemort's question halted all movement. No one spoke, not even a single breath of air was heard. With a shaky nod, Voldemort pointed toward a blonde haired woman who was watching the scenery with wide frightful eyes, "You! Examine him. Tell me whether he is dead."

Narcissa watched her husband gazed at her, patiently waiting for her to approach Potter Both Malfoys were anxious about the current condition of their son, they for nothing but this war to stop and be gone with it but with their ties with the Dark Lord made it hard for the couple. A quiet sigh escaped past her lips, longing for peace and rest however rest would have to wait as Lady Malfoy advanced in Potter's laying dead body.

Crouching down low, Narcissa let her long hair shield Harry's face from the onlookers. Her heart drummed as she bent even lower, her lips an ince from his ear. She knew the consequences if one saw her questioning Potter she wanted to ask and the latter would answer – that was, if Potter was alive…

"Is Draco alive? Is he in the castle?"

The whisper was hardly audible and she received no response. It took Narcissa's whole will power not to cry, to prevent all her tears from breaking free and fall. Her voice begged for answer as she repeated, "_Is Draco alive?"_

Gripping the arm she held, Narcissa sat up and focused on forcing to calm herself. She doesn't care anymore if her nails pierced the child beside her for –

"He's dead."

They cheered. Yelling in triumph, stomping their feet. Even Voldemort allowed a grin curled up onto his pale face. "Harry Potter, the nuisance, was dead! No man alive can threaten me now!"

More cheers greeted Voldemort and his victory. Red and yellow lights sped up from their wands, lighting the Forbidden Forest's dark sky that the clearing echoed with shrieks and laughter.

"We march to Hogwarts where the Light awaits." Voldemort said, releasing his beloved horcrux, Nagini, out from her cage. "We shall let them informed of what occurred in this occasion, the time of our victory, and show them what has become of their precious hero."

Voldemort approached Harry's lifeless body. He leisurely walked towards the boy, humming softly with glee evident on his visage as he observed his spoil of war. The merriment dwindled as most Death Eaters watched their Dark Lord picked up a fallen accessory: Potter's spectacles.

Giving the piece of eyewear a swift examination, Voldemort slammed Harry's glasses onto his face with deliberate force. Satisfied with the lack of response, he purposely turned to the nearest person and addressed, "You carry him. Make sure he is visible. I want to see his friend's faces when they notice Potter's unmoving, lifeless body."

Voldemort moved on, trudging his way through the close-growing thick trees with his loyal followers following his direction. They were all eager to face the opposition, absolutely positive that no one could ever stop the Dark now that Potter was cold, devoid of life and still in the arms of Dolohov. Cruel smirks adorned their faces as the Death Eaters marched their way to Hogwarts. Pureblood supremacy would win.

The army marched in strides on toward the open grounds of Hogwarts with their purpose obvious as they held their head high and proud. The chill due to the Dementors presence was thinning Voldemort patience for the snake could already taste victory. Just a little more and this battle would be over. As they draw nearer to the castle entrance, Voldemort gave a swift signal to Dolohov who stepped forward, carrying the limp body in his arms.

The Death Eaters came to a halt, spreading out in a line to face the open front doors of the school. Two of the cloaked men, advanced and accompanied Dolohov in delivering Potter's dead body. They all wanted the adversary party to see what was about to happen as they waited for Voldemort to begin.

"The battle is won. You have lost half of your fighters." There was silence in the grounds and from the castle when Voldemort announced his status. "My Death Eaters outnumber you, and the Boy-Who-Lived is finished. There must be no more war. Anybody who continues to resist, man, woman, or child, will be slaughtered, as will every member of their family. Come out of the castle now, kneel before me, and you shall be spared. Your parents and children, your brothers and sisters will live and be forgiven, and you will join me in the new world we shall build together."

"Go forth." Voldemort said, letting Dolohov and two others tramped ahead, alerting their presence.

McGonagall came striding not too long after the three Death Eaters entered Hogwarts' floor. She looked tired and weary, her hair was as stray and creases marked her face. However, when the saw her student, her exhaustion dimmed that despair took over.

"NO!" The scream was terrible. Never did McGonall see that she would be crying in despair, in utter hopelessness which Bellatrix glorified in. The latter was enjoying the sight of the Transfiguration professor.

"Harry!"

"HARRY!"

Twin shouts burst in the castle grounds as Ron and Hermione came into view. Seeing their best friend dead and carried by those blasted Death Eaters made the two disbelieving at the sight.

"No…" Hermione whispered. Her eyes wide as she stared, fat salty tears made its way down her cheeks. This was Harry's battle, how was he dead? It couldn't be. No. No. No! Her mind lacked the will to comprehend what was happening that she stood frozen, her mouth agape while she shook her head.

The hall was slowly filling with people from the Light. Curious they were but their brooding fear about contingency took over when they saw what the commotion was about.

What they saw, however, was not what they all expected. Dolohov threw Harry deliberately that caused the survivors to remonstrate.

"How could you!"

"Harry!"

"Have you no respect for the dead!"

The cries and shouts as the crowd took up the cause. Their hatred burned brightly that showed revenge. But Voldemort was not having those.

"Harry Potter needs no respect! He was nothing, ever, but a boy who relied on others to sacrifice themselves for him! He's dead. Do you now understand, deluded ones?"

Ron's face matched the color of his hair, appearing to show how he was filled anger. Wrathful, even, at Voldemort's words.

"He beat you! You son of a –"

"He was killed while trying to sneak off Hogwarts. He was killed trying to save himself from his –"

A flash of light was seen. Neville gripped his wand tightly wishing for his _stupefy _to hit Voldemort. Unfortunately for Longbottom, the Dark Lord was too strong for some feeble spell to defeat him as latter sidestepped and countered it.

"_Expelliarmus!"_

Voldemort's spell was fast. It struck Neville right on his chest. With the strength of the caster, Neville was thrown backwards, his head hitting the bricked walls of Hogwarts while his wand flew in the Dark Lord's hands.

"And who is this?" Voldemort said in his soft snake's hiss. "Who has volunteered to demonstrate what happens to those who continue to fight when the battle is lost?"

Seamus helped his fellow Gryffindor up to his feet, worried for Neville's bleeding head. The two watched the Death Eaters laugh in merriment with Neville eyeing a particular witch in intense antipathy.

Bellatrix gave a delightful laugh, inspecting Neville as if he was her next prey. "Longbottom, my Lord! It's Neville Longbottom, the boy who has been giving the Carrows so much trouble. The son of the Aurors, remember?"

"Ah, yes. I remember." Voldemort nodded, "But you are a pureblood aren't you, my dear boy?"

Now unarmed and unprotected, Neville look at Voldemort rebelliously. His hands balled into fist as though he was ready to punch Voldemort's noseless face, Dark Lord or not.

But he responded nonetheless, "So what if I am?"

"You show spirit and bravery, and you come of noble stock. You will make a very valuable Death Eater. We need your kind, Neville Longbottom."

"As if I'd do that, bastard." Neville spat scathingly. "Dumbledore's Army!"

Cheers from the crowd was heard, their spirits sparked in vigour readying their wands at the adversary.

"Very well…" Voldemort started, his silky voice through the cheers, "If that is what you want Longbottom, we revert to the original plan."

Voldemort lifted his wand watching the Light stiffen in preparation. "I had my mind picture that this battle will end at Potter's death, but it seems that I was mistaken. We will show you how we deal with the ones who oppose us." The tip of Voldemort wand burned in orange light, glowing menacingly as he continued, "I will show you destruction and death for you denied me, Pureblood or not!"

Fire burst onwards from the Dark Lord's wand. It took the shape of a fifty meter serpent, where flames composed its skin instead of snake skin. It bared its fangs, hissing in an unpleasant way making the crowd backed.

However, with a strong battle cry from the Light, the battle started.

Red streams of light countered the enemies' green curses. They dodged and evade from their opponents similar to a deadly dance the two parties were in feat. More than once, the ceiling was hit. It reached its limit that it shook and huge pieces of bricks rained. It descended over the chaos happening below that the impact it made on the floor caused a brief earthquake to start.

The raining debris made it hard for the wizards as they fired spells after counter spells. Unfortunately, few got hit rendering them injured and dead but the serpent remained unharmed. It hissed in pure malice as the flames coming from the beast licked the floor and walls. It was scattering and fast.

There was a sound of cruel laughter in the background accompanied by a bloodcurdling scream. It reigned terror to Hermione's heart, stabbing her chest painfully than the Cruciatus Curse.

"_Impedimenta!" _The spell Hermione casted hit the Death Eater straight unto his chest. This might be war but she was not the person who could kill as the witch wasted no time casting another _Jelly-Fingers Curse _towards another coming Death Eater.

"Ron!" Hermione screeched, her eyes frantically searching for a familiar streak of red hair. "Ronald!"

Her repeated question was answered. She heard it amidst the noise of battle, but another horrifying well-known scream reached her ears making the hair of her arms stood.

It was suddenly chill, contrary to the heat he serpent emanated. Her brown eyes found her friend on his knees facing Bellatrix's wand. The sight was worse than her pretty little mind could comprehend as her stomach dropped eventually seeing Ron. Ron's lovely shade of red hair was coated with blood as Bellatrix's long fingernails grazed his skin. His face to which Hermione had grown to love was ruined. Where his right eye should been was gone, only but a socket thick blood flowing freely from his eye.

Mercy was not a word to describe those Death Eaters. They were awful, vicious and cruel. Their desire for blood and screams of pain were strong and Hermione should have known that.

But she stood frozen, unable to help her beloved in his suffering. There were no tears shed as she watched in fright. To some extent, Ron's screams were blocked from her ears, however, the view wasn't.

Hermione took a shaky step forward, her legs heavy and her mouth open in silent cry. Whatever curse Bellatrix casted made Ron's remaining eye bleed. The power of her wand wished for nothing but the bloodied eye, ripping it from its socket. Large amount of blood pooled Ron, her friend's body was getting paler and paler.

"…Ron." Hermione whispered as she caught Bellatrix mad gaze.

"Granger!" Stopping from her session, Bellatrix faced the younger witch fully, her mad grin still intact. "Fancy seeing you here! Oh, I enjoy your lover's screams. They were lovely, weren't they?"

Not trusting her mouth at the moment, Hermione cautiously advanced wanting to be on Ron's aid more than anything. But this witch was in front of her blocking her path, grinning similar to Cheshire's. But that grin flattered when Bellatrix received nothing but the younger witch's silent treatment.

"You should have known that Mudbloods like you are to be spurned in this world." Bellatrix started with a sneer adorning her face, replacing her mad grin, "Fools were the ones who accepted your dirt here. They were stupid to let your presence here! And look what they've done! Those who embraced Mudbloods like their _friends_, married them for _love_ were the reason we dwindle!"

Bellatrix paused to heave a breath, but that did not stop her from firing a _Cruciatus Curse_ towards a still Hermione_._ Due to her ardent anger, the pain the curse caused should have been more intense than her regular curses making Bellatrix's victims writhe and scream in agony.

And so Hermione screamed and screamed begging for anyone to ease the burning feeling. It left her no choice but to feel pain more intense than before. "We Purebloods are the rightful ones to wield magic! Not you! You're killing our kind! Ruining our world with your filth and stealing what it rightfully ours!"

"When the war is over," Bellatrix gave the younger witch a cackle before continuing, "We will stand, this conflict settled and the wizarding world Mudblood free!"

"The only acceptable thing you could now do is to disappear, one less filth to take care of. Vanish like you have never existed in the first place! Can you do that Mudblood?" she asked, maniacal glee evident on her face, "Or should I help you with it?"

The curse ceased and the pain stopped. The sudden and uncontrollable twitches of her muscles made Hermione vaguely aware that she was nowhere near an infirmary. If she was, Madam Pomfrey would have been beside her this instant. However, she wasn't. This was the reality, the battle of Hogwarts, with her in Bellatrix's clutches.

Long have the trio wanted for this war to end. One of them was dead and the other was threading a thin line of death. Now, she was the only one left. She could not let her grief over them let her fall.

Hermione prayed for strength as she bit her lips hard, causing it to rip and to seep blood. Her mind whirled as she thought of her achievements. Never had Hermione failed in anything. She always prospered. But currently watching Bellatrix aim her wand at her, the young Gryffindor steeled herself. To die during the battle was not in her list and to fail her two best friends was definitely _not _in her plans.

Did Hermione wanted to vanish? Sure, a lot times particularly the times when she was bullied. But did she wanted for Bellatrix to vanish instead?

She longed for it.

Hermione gulped. What spell could vanish someone as tough as Bellatrix? Nothing, perhaps the _Killing Curse_ and a very strong _Stupefy_ could. If Hermione was to cast those spells, that bitch's spell would have hit her too. She would fade away and land to another world maybe.

No, she could die yet. Not until this battle was over. For Harry and for Ron. Hermione lifted her wand, aiming directly at the Slytherin. She willed her counter curse in preparation, her wand lighting in pastel gray. Now, she was just waiting for Bellatrix to make the first move.

"_Evanesco!"_

The spell was fast approaching that it gave Hermione, little Gryffindor she was, little time to cast off her counter curse.

"_Repermitoretra!" _

A gray glass reformed at the tip of her wand. It was but a size of a grown man's hand. Suffice to say that, Hermione was glad to reflect Bellatrix's _Evanesco_. But due to the strength of the spell and Hermione's weary magic that she lost her control over.

Hermione's eyes followed the spell. Her actions being mirrored by Bellatrix as the two faced the castle entrance. It was headed on to the direction of the person she least expected. The gray beam of light approach Harry's dead body just as Hermione was about to cast another spell.

"_Protego!"_

All Hermione's attempt to protect her best friend was futile. She screamed Harry's name as the spell hit him, desperately wishing that nothing bad would happen to him. Her _Repermitoretra _was unpredictable. It could reverse any spell and, surely, _Evanesco_ in reverse would mean nothing.

Fear etched her youthful face as her thoughts were not verified. She watched Harry's body smoke. His flesh turning gray, the same colour of her spell, as it dissipated. Particles flew, the body was now becoming more translucent as more smoke flew away.

**o.o.o.o.o**

Harry's eyes fluttered open. His emerald gaze found nothing but white, never-ending white. Every where he turned, the spaceless white area would always greet him. He saw nothing and heard not even a single breath of his.

Was he deaf?

Or was he simply not breathing?

Events of what happened past raced back through his mind. He was with Voldemort and his loyal Death Eaters jeering for his death. Harry remembered the details. The numbness from Hagrid's death, the fear of him facing his enemy as he raised his wand in preparation and the horrifying green light of the _Killing Curse. _

So was he dead then? And this never-ending white space was heaven?

"Certainly not, Harry." The words were spoken silky. Harry knew that voice. It was familiar, it was deceiving and charming. He turned around, facing the speaker. What Harry saw was the least person he wanted to see. "If this was heaven, I would not be here."

Stylist ebony hair, gray eyes full of scorn and pale skin… Oh Harry remembered it. Standing proudly in front him was Tom Marvolo Riddle. A miniature smirk adorned his handsome face as he continued, "Ah, I see that you haven't forgotten me. I am most flattered, Harry."

"Where am I Riddle?" Harry spat, clenching his fist hard to refrain himself from lashing out. Obviously, he was uncomfortable talking with Tom especially with the events of the Forbidden Forest fresh in his mind.

Tom chuckled, "Hasty are we?" Noting Harry's discomfort, Tom sauntered around to ease his host. "It seems to me that you wanted nothing more than to leave. What if I don't want to answer your question?"

"Then don't." Emerald orbs followed Riddle as he moved around the spaceless white clearing. Harry hated this, having a 'civil' conversation with his sworn enemy–particularly, when there were too many questions clouding his head. "What are you even doing here? If this is not heaven, then surely this isn't hell."

"How can you sound positive about this not being hell?"

Harry paused. What if this white clearing was indeed hell? Made particularly for him to suffer for his actions? As Harry's thoughts lead him back to his childhood and Hogwarts, he recalled nothing that could grant him access to hell. Except, perhaps, for the mischief he and Ron did. But those childish deeds were nothing compared to what Voldemort done. That blasted snake even made him a horcrux, albeit accidentally.

_Horcrux… _The word echoed through his mind. Harry stared towards the man who now stood before him, his smirk still plastered on his pale face as if Tom was enjoying every bit of Harry's internal turmoil.

"About time Harry. It is rather nice meeting you in person."

"Where are we exactly?" Harry glared at the horcrux, watching him lift an inconspicuous eyebrow.

"Back to that question again? Are you really that oblivious for not to notice how I can read your mind?" Tom said, tittering at Harry's discomposure. "We are in your mindscape, boy. And your assumption is correct, although it pains me to have you guess it this early."

"So you're Voldemort's seventh horcrux. Just like what Dumblebore said."

Tom nodded at Harry's inquiry, seemingly in good mood at he was willing to answer. "I am but a fraction of his soul."

"You're his seventh piece."

"I am."

"Voldemort killed me, or rather you, at the clearing." Harry started, he may not be Hermione but he had enough brain cells to piece a puzzle together. "How were you still alive, shouldn't you be gone at the instant Voldemort casted his curse?"

At Harry's question, Tom laughed harshly. His laughter would have been nice if it weren't for his dark interior. "You wanted me dead for you to live and finish that fraud of a seer's blasted prophecy? To stop Voldemort once and for all for the greater good. Why?"

"What am I supposed to do? Let you kill my friends and everyone else to rid the Wizarding World of muggles? I'm not going to let you do that." Harry said in defiance, his eyes blazing with fury as he thought of his best friend, Hermione, dead.

"You are young, Harry, no matter how much this war caused you to act mature." Tom said, a thoughtful expression showing on his face, "Naïve and ignorant, that is what you are. Harry, you haven't seen what those muggles could do. Voldemort was just putting a stop to it before it's too late."

"And what, pray tell, can they do? They have no magic, we have. Muggles would fear us when they learned about wizards." A brief memory passed Harry's mind as it showed how he was treated by the Dursleys. The abuse he went through was the least thing Harry wanted for others to experience.

Reading the meaning behind Harry's words, Tom steered their argument in the other direction, as he remembered his host's unanswered question. "You wanted to know how I'm still in your head, Harry Potter? Do you recall the exact detail of what happened the day your mother and father died?"

But even before Harry could compose himself and hurl back a reply, Tom cut in, "How silly of me to question you that. You were but an infant that night…"

"Godric's Hollow 1981, the night Voldemort came and attempted to kill you, preventing your rise in power that could destroy and carefully calculated plans. It never passed Voldemort's mind to make you a living horcrux but because of Lily's magic and sacrifice, I was made." Tom paused, letting his words sunk in to Harry as he smiled, "The _Killing Curse _he sent affected you, not just your mother. Your soul was weakened until I held unto it and we survived."

Harry grimaced, "Never knew you sunk that low, you bloody parasite."

"Should be grateful you wre–"

"Grateful?! You lived in my mind! Because of you, I have this scar!" Harry pointed at his scar in obvious dislike, "I have this proof, linking my mind to Voldemort!"

'_Proof of the burden I carry.' _Tom heard Harry's emphasised unsaid words.

"I am a proof that you live, residing in your head because I _live _with you, Harry. Your soul was deprived of strength to hold your small body. I prevented it leaving for your body to stay alive. I am part of you." Tom hissing, his smile widened, satisfied of what he was about to say. "And you to me."

Harry's hands were curled into balls as he shook in anger, livid at Tom's explanation. The horcrux was supposed to die and he would be alive, back to the living to finish his job. Yet, he was having a conversation with Tom. "How is that possible? You're lying! All those Horcruxes I have destroyed goes back to Voldemort. Anytime now, you'd disappear and go back with him."

Crossing his arms, Tom chuckled at Harry's displeasure. "I won't, Harry. We are a part of whole. If I go to back to Voldemort, you too would. And I've seen your stubbornness. You refuse to because you cling to life. You are desperate to be alive once again to finish this war. Or if not, dead and in the arms of your loving family…"

The two said nothing in exchange for a moment. Tom was busy watching Harry and the latter occupied with his unstable train of thought. Of course, who wouldn't be shocked? It was not every day Harry got to know he had another soul residing in his body.

Harry sighed heavily. He knew Tom. He was manipulative and a cheating liar, _a snake devil _through and through. Behind those words he said were malice ready to strike Harry with poisonous fangs. And if he dealt with it, his consequences would surely drag his sorry ass to hell.

However, even before Harry could plan a way out of this situation, the mindscape was already dimming. It was as if the lights forgot to flicker and decided to lose its energy so sudden that gray fog begun to take over.

"What is happening?" Harry asked Tom, who was observing his mindscape changing for gray to black. It was absurd to see him standing so calm and unworried with this event that Harry even heard a nonchalant reply coming from Tom.

"You are beginning to wake up."

**o.o.o.o.o**

**Author's Notes****: I'm new in this HP/Avengers Crossover fandom but I've read interesting stories here (**_Everything I do by Tiger Lily Roar, To Tear The Skies Apart by njchrispatrick… to name a few_**) and thought that maybe I could write one just for fun. And so as a result, I'm here… So as you can see I'm putting out a Harry Potter/Avengers Crossover, which is already common. However, this story will feature Harry as the villain instead of a hero. And when I say villain = VILLAIN. Rawr! Imma bite you guys if you're going to ask me if there's any chance he'll be redeemed. Because no, I'm that mean. \(^u^)/**

**Pairings? Hmm… Pairings. Undecided, but I'll leave you guys a choice. It will be either: onesided Natasha/Harry or onesided Steve/Harry. **

**And oh, one last thing. I like violence and angst, and do pay attention to my warnings. **

**Reviews are nice. Reviewers are nicer. They give Carlo reviews! May your dreams be blessed with endless amount of chocolate and candy. **

_*Repermitoretra – to send away in a reverse and reflect manner. _


	2. Pre-Captain America: One

**Disclaimer****: I own nothing.**

**Warnings****: Character Death.**

**o.o.o.o.o**

[Germany: September 14, 1935]

It was a bright morning. The sun was up above bringing light upon everyone from below, offering warmth against the cool winter air. Birds chirped in delight as children's laughter filled the streets. The harmonious noise brought joy to parents watching from the inside but all knew about the mask. This perfect morning was a flawed visage of Germany. War was brewing. Nuremberg Laws would be announced soon and many would die.

Dr. Abraham Erskine, a man of good will, had always been a clever scientist. His ideas were surprisingly incredible and his talents alone could surpass scientists of the later generation. However, bright as he may be, his excellence alone made him a target among power-hungry individual like a rabbit to a vicious snake.

He and his assistant, lovely Luna, knew of what would become if the anti-semantic laws was publicized: conflict among nations. Nobody wanted that but it was bound to happen. And both scientists have big dreams to resolve the upcoming war. They may not be warriors but they have the brains and skills for support.

And Dr. Erskine got the idea just how bad their situation was to become.

"Greta! Are Marlene and Klaus ready?" He said, concern written on his face as he packed his clothes and valuables onto a worn out suitcase. His family was going to stay out of this mess and leave Germany. After all, consequences were dire should they stay.

A brief "yes" was all Erskine heard from downstairs but it was enough for him to stop packing. He thought of Luna. Just how would his sweet, innocent apprentice fare about this forthcoming anarchy? He let out a long, soft breath as he went for the telephone lying on a cream-colored dresser near him. He wished to tell Luna his goodbyes, as he punched his assistant's number on line.

There was a ring and Erskine wasn't left to wait long when he heard a melodic voice on the phone, "You have reached Dr. Lovegood, what seems to be the problem doctor?"

His eyes creased in glee, letting out a fond chuckle as he asked "Were you waiting for my call, Luna?"

"Quite so."

Erskine smiled. Luna knew him and treated him like a father, even when they were working on an experiment. She was such a strange being, full of life and young, and Erskine would never want to see her eyes with taint. "Listen Luna. I don't have much time. I'm leaving Germany."

He waited for a reply, anticipating a question why he was leaving. But to his dismay, it looked as if Luna was being patient for him to continue. "Please…" Erskine started, having a hard time to say the right words. "Take care of yourself."

He could imagine Luna nodding and smiling sadly on the other line and he listened to her farewell, "See you then, doctor."

Having wasted his precious minutes with Luna, Erskine lost no more time putting his remaining clothes in his suitcase and heading downstairs. His footsteps echoed as he went down alerting both his wife and children. "All set?" He asked, huffing as he checked his son and daughter, who were anxious with the events happening. They had the right to be for Erskine hadn't told them how grave their situation was in.

With a nod, he reached for the door, "Let's get going." His hand clutched the doorknob and swung the door open.

To say that Erskine was worried was an understatement. The feeling surprise was not even registered as his shock overtook his whole person. No, he was very upset. On the other side of the door was a Nazi general calmly standing before Erskine when he opened the door. The Nazis must have been anticipating his movements when a high standing officer was visiting his abode.

"Good day, doctor." The general greeted humbly, as if humble could describe a Nazi. Erskine was shaking his head in anxiousness at the sight of man in front of him, taking a curious glance at his family. "Going somewhere I believe? Do you mind if I ask where?"

Erskine did not reply. His throat felt parched as his mind raced with hundreds of thoughts for the well-being of his wife and children. Why was Johann Schmidt here?

"No?" Schmidt said, raising an eyebrow at the scientist's silence. "I'm afraid to say that you, Dr. Erskine, aren't going somewhere. Your family, on the other hand, is."

Mentioning his family brought Erskine anguish. Schmidt seemed to know what Erskine was up to, but what irked the latter was why was his family included in this mess? He understood his disadvantage and felt his hands gripping his suitcase tighten when the thought of how powerless they were. This was exactly what he foresaw, but he didn't expect to happen. As a result, Erskine was frozen in spot listening to the man continue.

"We have big plans for you, doctor, and we can't have any hindrances interfering with our work." He said, stepping inside his home like he owned it and procured a device from his breast pocket. It was small and exquisite with buttons adorning its tiny frame. "I see that you have a lovely house. Such a shame to this abandoned."

The top of the device glowed blue when Schmidt pressed a button. Apprehension lulled Erskine's animosity for the general when he then brought the device near his lips and commanded. "Take them away. Leave Dr. Erskine to me."

* * *

Pale hands played with a serum canister, turning it from right to left and from left to right, as Luna watched its content swirl lazily in the inside. She grey eyes eyed the label: Super Soldier Serum.

She was on the phone with her mentor and superior moments ago and Luna could not help but fathom why he was leaving now. Erskine could have left days ago when the heat of the conflict wasn't at its peak. It was much safer should he leave earlier, and now Luna was regretting her mistake for not sharing what she foreknew.

There was a tug in her stomach as she thought of what might happen to her father-figure. Erskine left her the near-to-completion Super Serum and expected her to finish it maybe. But Luna couldn't, she was sure of it now that she can imagine what Erskine was dealing with now.

Her movements were absent. She stood up from her stool and went to fetch eight vials. Her mind kept telling her to leave, leave while she still could. However, based from Luna's experience, this short time wouldn't give her the safety to leave. But…

The vials where immensely cleaned from the inside and out, no spot could contaminate the serum. A syringe was already at her hand as she filled each vials the Super Serum substance leaving nothing for unwanted hands to examine. And Luna grabbed a pen, labelling each vial with two letters.

…but, with this short amount of time, it would certainly give Luna enough time to warn her dear friend.

**o.o.o.o.o**

"_You are beginning to wake up."_

Damn right. Harry never knew waking up from death could be this painful, his muscles ache and on top of that it was accompanied with a brain-splitting headache. He haven't even opened his heavy eyelids, yet he could feel the light penetrating his eyeballs straight right to this brain. At least, on the positive light, it wasn't as near as bad as the _Cruciatus Curse _but that did not stop a groan escape past his dry lips.

His muscle felt heavy. No scratch that, his muscles felt like a rusty lead, soft yet burdened with great weight that his joints creaked at every movement Harry did. Was this the feeling all old men experience? If so, it certainly didn't help Harry with his current predicament _at all._

However, he was a Gryffindor, was he not? There might have been a snake-parasite residing in his mind but Harry was lion through and through. Not a coward and whiny brat. For all of his time spent with the Dursleys' served him well, and he was not about to let another pained groan come past him – Harry's pride wouldn't let it as he forced his eyelids face reality, only to shut it close again.

The reality Harry knew was definitely not in the form of the sun's bright yellow glare reflecting down at him. Was it morning already? No… Did time fly at a faster pace than normal when Harry died? Surely, his conversation with Tom lasted less than half an hour. What about the battle in Hogwarts? His friends? Did they win? Was Voldemort dead? Were they safe?

Panic suddenly surged forth his heart as it thumped loudly unto his chest. Harry heard his blood rushing and his heart beating abnormally fast at the thought of what might happen to his friends. What of Ginny? Harry choked, his dry throat prevented enough entry for air to enter his lungs. His chest constricted at the lack of oxygen.

"_Calm down." _The words were whispered unto Harry's mind. It was strong yet gentle, like how a mother would hush her child in peace. _"You'd kill yourself with your worries."_

Harry never heard of Voldemort capable of using such mellow tone. Perhaps, Tom was entirely different from Voldemort, even though he was nothing but a fraction of the Dark Lord's soul. But still, Harry would only lie to himself if he didn't admit that Tom's voice did soothe him down.

Although dusty – as if he was surrounded by antediluvian furniture in an antique shop – Harry sucked in a lungful breath of air he was deprived moments ago, rejoicing at the sweet sensation his chest felt. Thankfully, his heart paced down and so was his headache leaving a dull feeling at the back of his skull.

Opening his eyes this time was easier than before. But, that didn't mean that Harry liked what he saw. The sight of the unfamiliar beige ceiling made Harry gulp the lump forming in this throat. Was Harry not supposed to be in the Forbidden Forest? He shifted his head to the side and to the other, merely to distinguish a blurred image of a wardrobe and curtained window, not those neatly tucked beds of the hospital wing nor his small bedroom at the Dursleys. It was familiar yet unfamiliar to him, like Harry should have known this place but it held no memories and significance to him. Harry had a sneaking suspicion that this was all just a dream. Perhaps, Tom simply wanted to play with his mind…

Sitting up was a lot less easier than opening one's eye. His muscles screamed in protest at the action and Harry grimaced.

"Where am I again, Tom?" Harry asked. The room was homely, but looks could be deceiving and it was enough to trigger his fight-or-flight response. After all, Professor Moody taught him well. Constant vigilance! This time, however, Tom decided to ignore Harry's question. But, that was fine as Harry was given the silence to contemplate where the hell was he. His eyes scanned the room, searching for any anomalies that would likely give him clues.

Comfty bed? Nope.

Ceiling fan? Nah.

Drab-looking suit and tie? Most definitely not.

Harry got off the bed and stood up. So far, he concluded that his benefactor obsessed himself with anything vintage and classic. "Even the air smells old. He must've been a senior." His eyes found a silver-brimmed round eyeglasses lying innocently on a desk beside the bed. Harry wasted no time reaching for it. There, at least he wasn't as disabled as he first felt waking up. This might've been a dream but he was thankful nonetheless when he was with his beloved eyewear.

There was no wand or a piece of stick near it but beside the spot, where his glasses once sat, was a diploma. It was framed carefully, like it held great importance to the owner, but unlike with everything around Harry, this was new – fresh like it was given just days ago.

_By the power granted by us the United States of America, we attest that our cherished alumnus – Harold James Norwood – has completed all the usual requirements we impose on all students of the liberal disciplines, and has undergone examinations necessary, having successfully completed a programme of study in Medical Bioscience… _(1)

Harold James… How coincidental of this bloke's name be similar with his. If Harry believed that this was all but just a dream, he would have been grateful with this doctor nursing him back to health. Where was this Dr. Norwood anyway? This room must've been his.

Shaking his head to relieve him from galling feeling, Harry went for the door calling out for the practitioner with his bitterness resounding. "Hello? Dr. Norwood? I would like to have a word with you."

Harry was expecting Harold to be somewhere in the living room lounging and watching the telly, or maybe in the kitchen cooking breakfast. But no, said doctor was nowhere to be found. It was quiet and no one replied to him as his eyes hunted down for his absent benefactor.

"What kind of a dream is this Tom? It's hilarious. Now quit fooling around, wake me up back in Hogwarts." Harry grumbled to his guest – or more like a parasite. "Come now! I know you're in there."

"_Yes Harry, I'm here. Where else would I go?" _Tom answered in riposte. _"And no, I cannot wake you up back in Hogwarts. Because no matter how hilarious it maybe to you, I am deeply sorry to inform you that your body and mind are completely aroused, and therefore, not dreaming." _

"Stop Tom. I am, or rather, we are in an unknown environment with no magic. Just take me back."

"_And what, pray tell, made you sure that I can cast us back to Hogwarts?" _Harry can easily visualize Tom giving him a very elegant eyeroll as the latter's retort. But that was not the matter in hand as foreboding sensation started to well within Harry at his conclusion. Tom may have been mocking at Harry's exasperation simply for entertainment but he could sense the implications that damn horcrux gave. They were powerless in an unknown location and neither Harry nor Tom knew where they were.

But besides that, what disturbed him the most was the sensation of belongingness he received upon scanning the quarters. It seemed that the solitude the house provided was what Harry ought to expect even from the time he woke up.

It was absolutely strange and at the same time, familiar.

There was a loud knocking on the door and Harry hesitated. Should he open and greet the person outside? Or perhaps pretend there was no one around inside and wait for the individual to leave?

"I know you're in there Mr. Harold. I, myself, saw you here yesterday." A jolly voice spoke as the person rapped the door again. "I just came here to deliver a- something Dr. Lovegood herself said was important."

Harry's train of thought came to an abrupt halt when Luna's family name was cited. His hesitation was gone at the instant and found himself swing the door wide open to reveal a young rotund brunette. Harry wasted no time asking in disbelief, "You mentioned the name Lovegood. Luna Lovegood? Intelligent, odd, blonde with silver eyes Luna Lovegood?"

The brunette's face fell from overly excited to highly confounded staring at Harry with a stern expression. "Mr. Harold, you yourself taught me never to drink alcohol."

At this second, it was Harry's turn to look incredulous. Was the child on the doorstep reprimanding him like a dotty mother? His eyebrows rose as he addressed the brunette, "Look. I barely have the time to consume alcohol much less guzzle a lot. Now, you said 'Lovegood'? Uh…" Harry lagged, remembering that the youngster before him was no one from his memories.

"Jack." Jack panned in annoyance making Harry nod. "Dr. Lovegood made me, myself, come here to hand you this thing. She, herself, said that you needed the samples?"

A blank look was the only response Harry could give at Jack with his current quandary. He had zero percent knowledge on what was happening. And since when did Luna decided to be a doctor? Harry thought that she was going to inherit the Quibbler or something… Seriously, he'd appreciate it if someone could tell him what the hell was going on. "Samples? What samples?"

Jack shrugged making his baby fats show. "I, myself, have no idea what this is." He said gazing at the heavily packed carton on his hands. There was a 'Handle With Care' sign at every faces of the box and a stamp sealed at the corner making it look like an important package.

Harry sighed, this may not be a dream but this place sure knew how to complicate itself.

"You said Lovegood?" Harry once again asked, eyeing the Jack as if he was looking for any deceit.

"The one and only Luna Lovegood." Jack nodded in affirmation reaching out for Harry to take the package. "We're wasting daylight here Mr. Harold. We, ourselves, both know that there are things in need of attending."

Harry almost choked the air he was breathing when he noticed what Jack addressed him, but accepted the box nonetheless. He could feel that Jack was getting suspicious at his actions as he was given a small piece of paper and a pen. "Before I go, you, yourself, need to sign this Mr. Harold."

A brief scan of the agreement paper made Harry pause. To say that Harry was confused was the complete understatement of what he was currently feeling. He, without doubt, was baffled to the extreme when his emerald gaze landed on the date. It slapped his face like cold water that he felt the need to punch a wall or something really hard to appease his temper.

_September 15, 1935_

"What?!" His exclamation reached Jack making the youngster jumped back in surprise. "How can this happen!" Yes. Why indeed. Why would Harry be in the past and him as a doctor? And Luna as a doctor sending him a very important package..?

"Bloody hell." Harry spun around, still glaring at the offending paper, and went inside.

"Uh… Mr. Harold -" Jack's feeble muttering was never heard as it was washed over when Harry slammed shut the door.

The living room suddenly felt so little size, as though the walls around Harry were closing in on him. But that was the least of his problems. He was stuck in the world of the 1935! _The past! _

"_Not just the past, dimwit. We seemed to be in an alternate place where you, Potter, are a doctor of the past." _

"And why would my alternate self be a doctor? I hardly had the time to fix my wounds in the battle!" Harry exclaimed, his hands making gestures as if Tom was communicating before him.

"_Yes. Because you lack the initiative to heal yourself, I wonder why…" _

Harry sighed. His panic only served him a pounding headache at the back of his head, but that didn't make him stop screaming, not oven the noise that would certainly alert his neighbours. He waited for Tom to continue his snarky remark, half expecting for the answer to his questions because Tom did know much.

"I loathe your sodding arse."

He found himself sluggishly going for the nearest chair for the constant worrying casted Harry off to exhaustion as he weightily sat down. The genuineness of his surroundings was enough proof that this anything but a dream, he realized with bitterness. Because in this kind of situation, Harry would rather choose this to be dream than relive the past without his friends. Perhaps he was thrown into the past to change the future and avert tides?

If so, then what would he do now? What would Hermione do now? In this kind of situation, no mistakes must be made. He'd have to think _smartly._ Oh, how Harry wished for Lady Luck right now.

Absently patting his side, looking for his dear holly wand, Harry managed not to sigh again in frustration when he realized he woke up without his wand near him. Heck, it could have been lost when he arrived here for all he knew.

Great. He was lost and without magic. And not to mention, a doctor when his past years proven that he couldn't heal himself even with the use of his _magic._ Tom was right. He always had Hermione or Madam Pomfrey to stitch up his wounds and make potions to alleviate the pain. He was in dire need of a help if he was to survive the past. If only he knew someone…

Harry's eyes widened at the thought as he quickly grabbed the oh-so important package Luna sent. He immediately begun unwrapping it, uncaring how he certainly did not handle it with care.

But just as soon as the idea of how Luna could help Harry surfaced, it was just as fast as how it vanished. He was disappointed to see that the package contained nothing but vials of clear yellowish fluid Harry couldn't seem to put a name on it.

…_Serum. _

Harry was taken aback when a spasmodic mental formation brought about pieces of what those vials were. He couldn't explain it and Harry's knowledge had never been in par with Hermione's, but he knew it was magic. Only magic had the ability to give him information regarding his position as a doctor and Harry hasn't dealt with any kinds of serum up till now.

For each phial, there were two letters written in black. There seemed to be no connection with other since Harry concluded that each vials enclosed the same type of serum. His mind hadn't done its magic yet, so it left Harry no clear inkling on what he was supposed to do with it. But Luna had said to Jack that it was important.

Harry bit his inside cheeks in aggravation and groaned. He was a total stranger of this century and knew nothing if these vials on his hands were treatment to a highly contagious virus spreading around the continent or something related with the notion. For all he knew, this serum might have been the key to cure cancer and Harry could only shrug at vials CO, NG, SA, RG, LE, RE, NA and MI. This was one of the times he wished for Hermione's brilliance. She'd probably give Harry a disappointed look for not figuring this out.

**o.o.o.o.o**

James Buchanan Barnes was having a great night. If one could call saving his best friend, Steve, from a back alley fight great - then, consider it a 'grand' night. False… Because if anything, it doesn't give him glee from seeing Steve all bloody and bruised, beaten up like some poor, stray cat. Heck, even street cats were treated better than Steve.

After making sure Steve got into his apartment in one piece, Bucky decided to call it a night and head home. But it seemed to him that this day just won't let him rest.

It was dark and the only light source he had were the fluorescent beam of the street lamps, but it was enough for Bucky to see his other best friend's disgruntled figure sprinting away from his house. In Harold's haste, whatever his reason was, failed to notice a fast moving car crossing the streets as he cried in alarm.

"Dammit, Harold. Don't tell me you're planning to die. You just got your degree!" The car came into a sudden halt, its tires screeching against the asphalt. There was a loud bellow of horn accompanied with an angry shout from the driver as Harold paused and gulped in gratefulness for not being hit.

"Hey, idiot. What's the matter? Some lady thought you're not worth of her time?" Bucky asked, running for his friend, who now stood petrified at the side of the street. He did not even bother if the driver was muttering curses at them at this moment as both men watched the car sped away.

Harold took a short glance of face, as if analysing his every feature, and grimace. It caused Bucky to roll his eyes and question, "Something wrong with my face, doctor?"

His friend shook his head, looking away, "No, it's just… Stop calling me Harold."

"Wow." Bucky said, his eyes growing sarcastically wide as he stared at his friend. Harold was as short as ever, barely reaching his nose, but Bucky could see that he'd grown up. The days his friend endured at the hospital must've caused him to act mature. "Never in our childhood lives did you grumble in complain 'bout your name. So what should I call you now, huh?"

"Just Harry."

"Whatever." Bucky patted the back of Harry's head in jest and chuckled. "You never answered my question. Was it a girl?"

Harry eyed him in disbelief, huffing along the way as he turned around and walked away in nervous strides. "I wished it was that easy, but no."

"Uh huh. So it wasn't a girl yet I saw you running away from your house like tonight was just the end for you." Bucky pressed on, following Harry. "Come on, Harold -"

"Harry."

"- just tell me, I'm your best friend in the whole wide world." Bucky said, quite proudly and gestured his hands around the surrounding neighbourhood. "Was it… about your boss? Dr. Loveness or something?"

Harry stopped with his tracks, facing Bucky as he corrected Luna's family name. "Are you serious? It's Lovegood." His breath hitching on edge as Harry perceived a difficult to understand future unpleasantness. "And, well yes. It's about her."

"Knew it."

Ignoring his friend, Harry continued, "There's something wrong. She sent me this… 'letter', and she might be in trouble. And I'm going to check on her if she's fine."

Bucky nodded in understanding. Based from the look Harry was giving him, his friend was absolutely serious with this condition. "Alright. So where are we going?"

Seeing Harry steeping back in surprise, Bucky let out a fond laugh. Clearly, his dear friend never expected him to accompany Harry. "What? I'm not leaving you taking all the action."

Staring at Bucky sceptically, Harry snorted and replied, "I'm a grown man."

"You are." He said in agreement. His arm going for Harry's thin shoulder as Bucky lead his friend forward, "And I'm trying to help. So, where's Dr. Lovegood's house anyway?"

**o.o.o.o.o**

[Luna's House: September 16, 1935]

Luna choked, her blood dripping down from her mouth as she struggled for her lungs to take in air. Strands of her blonde hair, now smeared in dirt and blood, rested on her clammy, pale face. It was becoming hard for her to concentrate on breathing while her hand was putting on pressure for her stomach wound.

A group of heavily armed individuals burst into her house moments ago, looking, searching for the serum. And if death wasn't caressing Luna, she would have smiled. They were ordered to kill her anyway if they found the serum or not. They might kill her now, but she knew that Dr. Erskine's experiment was in good hands.

**o.o.o.o.o**

**Author's Notes: **** I actually forgot that I have an ongoing story. Wow. I'm sorry if this chapter is short. I just started on writing this yesterday and I'm tired. **

**Harry is Bucky and Steve's friend because I have decided not to follow the Marvel Cinematic Universe, so don't be surprised when you see HP characters popping out. And oh! I killed Luna. I'm going to make it a personal mission to kill a character every chapter. **

**Wait… Speaking of Luna. That 'code' she sent Harry (?) yeah… Try figuring it out and you'll win a virtual cookie ^_^**

**(1)****The words stated on the diploma were words from my mother's diploma. I just did some minor changes and there you have it. **

**To those who follow and favourite this story, don't be shy to review. I don't care if it's short or not as long as you tell me what you have in mind, or suggestions, like or dislike about this. Because in all honesty, I'm not a good writer and seeing your reviews makes me kind of happy.**


	3. Pre-Captain America: Two

**Disclaimer****: I own nothing. **

**Warnings****: Foul Play. **

**o.o.o.o.o**

The coffee shop was an amazing place. It was small, dimly lit and Harry had never been inside one. Except, of course, his counterpart, Harold had been here a couple of times with his best friends Bucky and Steve. Unwanted memories of how the trio spend their times at the cafe intruded the wizard's mind causing a mild migraine to follow. Although unnecessary, Harry had to admit to himself that those recollections were indeed pleasant even if it gave him a huge amount of remorse at remembering how Ron and Hermione were at the moment.

The interior of the café would have been labelled by most designers as vintage, out-dated even, if Harry would have been at the present. But no, instead, he was seated on a comfy-looking antique chair in between tough, well-built Bucky Barnes and frail Steve Rogers, thrown into the past by someone in the year 1935 to get well acquainted and experience the 3D live action of the infamous World War II. Oh joy.

And to top Harry's ever-growing worries, he was without magic. He felt the dormant presence of his magic core deep within him like a buried matter neither cold nor hot, just waiting to be reached.

He stared at the paintings on the wall, depicting the beauty of Brooklyn with its clean streets and parks where lovers stay to pass time. It was different from Surrey and his missed his hometown – or rather, his time – where the Golden Trio would ran the streets of England away from Voldemort's Death Eaters.

It made Harry inwardly smiled and took a sip of his espresso. The rich, creamy, bitter taste exploded in his mouth making him choke. Harold may love coffee but that didn't mean Harry love it too. He'd prefer Butterbeer, thank you.

"Easy there buddy." He heard Bucky chuckle at his coughing, "Brooklyn is already short on doctors, we wouldn't want losing _another_ one this early."

Being a doctor just wasn't exactly on his list of future careers or treating people with diseases and disorders, that particular area was not the type Harry was fond of for he wasn't intellectually smart in that subject. Yet, his counterpart was everything he wasn't. The whole thing screams strange to Harry but there was always this equal part that reminds him of irritating familiarity he sensed. Sometimes Harry wondered if was in a separate past, different from where he originated in lieu of the past where he would meet his magic ancestors: the Potters.

All in all, it was frustrating Harry to no end as parts would clash leaving the wizard utterly confused. Now that Harold's memories were mixing with his.

He glared at Bucky in disappointment and annoyance. "No need to bring Luna in this situation Bucky."

"What?" Bucky started, his posture suggesting wonder and excitement as he absently stirred his espresso, talking with a rather fast pace, "You wouldn't handle the incident at hand, so I'm bringing it up, Harold -"

"Harry."

"- you're the one who told me Luna sent you a troubling message and then a day after, a couple of people rummaged through her lab and ended up killing her." He paused to look at Steve, whose blue eyes grew wide at hearing the news, and continued, "You know Steve, that night, he almost got it by a car."

"Oh, stop it." Harry heaved out a deep breath, "Why do you even want to know? You and her aren't even friends, much less acquaintances, to begin with."

He saw Bucky raised an eyebrow looking mildly surprised, giving him his 'Are you serious' stare. "Well, first, seeing a beautiful lady dead for some unknown reasons is interesting. Like a case, a crime scene where we get to investigate because you, my friend, might have some leads…"

His mind stopped listening at Bucky's first sentence as he pondered, 'Was this guy for real?'. Harry pursed his lips when the brunette described Luna beautiful. Don't get him wrong, he had no qualms about accepting Luna as pretty but hearing it from someone else just made it difficult for him to… admit, similar to the time when Hermione danced with Krum at the Yule Ball. He mentally scoffed at the thought that Bucky pictured that as an appealing case, much like Holmes.

Harry must've been musing it for too long as Bucky was already in his third, "And lastly, she's your friend."

"Hold on. What's your second?"

"Oh god." Rolling his eyes, Bucky leaned forward and whispered none too soft, "I said, word has gotten out that war might start any day now. Rumour has it that her death is just the first and many would eventually follow."

With Bucky's reasoning, it left Harry to ponder how correct his friend was. Major countries were already starting to recruit males for the army believing that they need soldiers as early as possible in preparation for war against the Germans. And his friend had a point, he could see that and he fear for the worst of what might possibly happen. Harry was about to say something but Steve got to it first, "Whatever happened wasn't just a coincidence Harold. She gave you a fair warning that you know… maybe the adversary wanted something from Dr. Lovegood… and she doesn't know that she has it."

"Information maybe?" Bucky asked.

Harry shrugged at Bucky's question, "I have no idea." The truth was, Harold knew nothing – if he did, then his memories would supply all the information Harry needed at this moment. It would have been helpful but alas, his mind came up blank.

"What was Dr. Lovegood's message anyway?" The question was muttered to Harry as if Steve was feeling nervous his inquiry would piss Harry off. "I- I mean, if it wasn't personal you don't have to share it with us."

Luna was always the odd, clever girl in Hogwarts. This may not be his dimension anymore but Luna was still intelligent in her own unique ways. And her silly message in code just proved Harry that she will forever be a Ravenclaw at heart. "Nargles are coming."

There was a short silence as both Bucky and Steve stared at Harry incredulously and spoke in unison, "What?"

"_Nargles are coming._ That's what stated in her message." Harry paused, taking another sip at his bitter coffee, "And before you ask, apparently Nargles – in Luna's words – are mischievous fellows kind of a thief."

"I was gonna say 'that's it?'." Harry heard Bucky's silent mutter to which he ignored.

Apparently, he wasn't the only one who heard it as Steve rolled his eyes heavenward in exasperation, "So… thieves are coming?" Steve's eyebrows were furrowed in concentration as he contemplated, "Then Dr. Lovegood must have known that those thieves were coming for her, hence, the message she delivered for you."

"He's right. Although, I still can't believe that's her message. It's _short_!" Bucky stressed on, like the short, cryptic message was giving him a hard time, "But, she's dead. That means something."

Bucky's words hit Harry full force as he froze in place, his face paling as his thoughts gathered. That kid – Jack – said that his delivery was important that Luna herself said so. She could have chosen a scratch of paper or something to write on her note, instead she put on a code and labelled it on those vials.

Which means…

"It means that they desire something she had her hands on."

"And it's not with her," Bucky finished the thought, looking quite pleased that their progress. "Which kind of infuriated the thieves and got Luna six feet below the ground."

"But- but, what is it that they want?" Steve asked, deciding that his fruity bread was better off eaten than left sitting all day.

Bucky noticed him taking a bite and commented, "I was about to take that scone. And no, that's not the real million dollar question, Steve." Turning back at Harry, "Harold -"

"It's Harry…"

"- you do know that you better start watching your back, right? Because if the thing they want wasn't with Luna then there next bet is you. You're Luna's assistant or apprentice or something…" Bucky said seriously and Harry saw the glint of worry and alarm in the brunette's brown eyes. "…and you don't want me to kill you for dying because you got reckless 'cause we're having none of that."

"Assume that you have it, they'll take it from you by force and you may or may not get yourself killed." Steve said grimly, his hold on his fork was tight, "Whoever they are Harold, they want something you have badly."

Harry saw Bucky leisurely nodding his head as he muttered an agreement, "Try desperately."

These two, Harry may know them from Harold memories but not by experience, reminded him of his friends back home. Bucky may not have been Ron material and Steve… definitely not like Hermione but they cared. Their concern was adamant that made him think that Harold was lucky enough to have a company such as Steve and Bucky. He was touched at Bucky's words. Hell, the brunette was even saying he'd kill him if he died.

"Don't worry. This guy sitting before you will not be killed easily." True. He was given the title 'Boy-Who-Live' for a reason, he has been dodging Death even before he turned two years old. His time at Hogwarts were hard as not only he was trying to be a normal student of Hogwarts but apparently, Voldemort had plans and schemes every year just to make his school year a living hell. And that living hell helped him hone his skills as a fighter and a warrior. Harry didn't even want to think how Hermione stayed sane trying to excel in her studies and at the same time trying to save Harry's sorry arse.

So when he said Harry won't be killed easily… He literally won't be killed easily.

"This is a serious matter Harold." Steve said, gazing back at Harry's emerald orb with pleading eyes, "You need to be extra careful."

Careful. Steve was not the first one to say that fair advice. He heard that word countless of times, mostly from Mrs. Weasley and he did survive from his fights. Was that an act of being careful? Nah, that was just Lady Luck staying by his side. But Harry was not pushing that luck, who knew, he might ran out.

"I will try."

"Uh huh…" Bucky, trying to look discrete, uttered to himself as he played with his drink.

Biting back a retort, Harry managed to ask but come out awkwardly, "Hm, yeah. We weren't actually here to talk about Luna. I bet you two have other news to share?" His intent to change the subject was obvious as both Steve and Bucky shared a look silently agreeing that the matter at hand was over.

Harry felt the table shook and saw from the corner of his eye Steve grimacing at Bucky, who was urging for the former to say something. Hmm… that kick must've been too hard for the blonde.

Steve begun, giving Harry a crooked smile as if his friend's condition worried the blonde immensely, "Yes. You see, Bucky and I were planning on joining the army. The next signing up is two days from now."

If Harry was younger, he would have blurted out 'Are you kidding me?' at this instant but looking at Steve, whose height is smaller than his, he was quite glad that his brain wisely kept his mouth shut. The crashing guilt he would feel if he ever caught sight of his friend's fallen rejected face. Steve Rogers' determination to help out was astounding but most doesn't see it that way when all they saw was a frail boy diagnosed with asthma and heart troubles.

And so Harry chose his words with the awareness of bear about to tread a raging rapid. He caught a glimpse of Bucky looking rather reluctant at Steve's choice. "Steve… Don't you think it'd be safe for you to check the hospital first to see if you'd be fit enough to join the army?"

"Yeah, why don't you do that Steve?" Bucky butted in, completely agreeing at Harry. "I know this nurse who'd gladly perform a medical check up for free. Well, as long as I'm around, that is."

Both Steve and Harry sighed at Bucky's excitement, altogether forgetting that his friend was doctor and a licensed physician. When Harry's '_Try not to tell Steve that he'll never be able to join the army' _plan was suddenly gone, vanished into thin air all because of a guy named Bucky Barnes, myriad of emotions came tumbling down onto Harry's thin shoulders. Guilt of seeing Steve's rejection face, apprehensive uneasiness of what he might found in Steve's physical exam sheet, and disapproval to name a few.

Seeing Steve nodded with a bright smile, completely oblivious on how bothersome it was for Harry. It made the wizard's stomach clench tightly as he waited for the words that would come from Steve. "Harold's a doctor Bucky. He can do my check up, instead of that nurse who'd be worshiping the ground you step on instead of doing her job."

Harry snorted in reply. He was not happy that he'd check up on Steve and stating the results, but he refused to show his displeasure and pretended he was fine. Responding in a rather small voice, "I can do that."

"Great!" Steve exclaimed, quite excited.

"Great way of ruining my fun." Bucky rolled his eyes and leaned back on his chair, "By the way Harold, can you – uh – recommend any therapy or medicine for Steve in case…"

Giving his blonde friend a glance, and then back at Bucky for comprehending the meaning behind what the brunette said. "I can do that." He repeated with a nod. Well, Harry was not exactly sure if he can do that but with Harold's medical experience and intelligence… he might be able to do that.

Might.

"Hey, can I join the army as well?" Harry asked, this may not be his war but he was better off dead if he was not going to help protect the innocent. Damn his hero-complex.

"Yes. The army would probably need medical support, and your help you'd be appreciated Harold." Steve said encouragingly.

"No, no. What I mean is, can I join the army as in the part of the army..?" Harry pressed on, he doesn't want to be a doctor on field. What was he going to do? Stay on the tent and wait for injured soldiers to cauterize their wounds and kiss their boo-boos goodbye? Hell no.

Bucky chuckled, draining the last of his espresso. "You? You don't even know how to properly handle a gun much less use one, Harold."

"_It's Harry…_"

"Hey. Hey. What are we now? Playing favouritism?" Bucky snapped, pointing at an innocent Steve, "Steve gets to call you 'Harold' without you butting in correcting your name and I don't?"

"Yeah, what's up with 'Harry'?" Steve added.

"Must be what lovely Luna calls him."

Harry groaned, he found his hand rubbing the bridge of his nose to soothe his growing annoyance as his ears automatically blocked off the snickers coming from Bucky, "Can we not talk about this? It's just from now on, it's Harry."

"Hmm…" Both hummed at the same time, and laughed making him groan louder, "Maybe!"

**o.o.o.o.o**

An hour later, Harry decided it was time for him to head back home. As much as he enjoyed Steve and Bucky's company, he have others things to work on. Like, perhaps the fact that he was once again a target of the opposing side except this situation Harry had no other clue why apart from the serum Luna gave.

His conversation with the two provided him an insight on what the future might store for him. For one, he was magicless. All of this was a mundane concept for Harry even though he grew up living like a muggle. Bucky was right, he had no idea how to use muggle weapons, he doesn't even know how to protect himself from the adversary without the use of his magic. Kitchen knives – good for throwing and stabbing – would help, but Harry doubt that it would harm anyone who was armed with guns.

"_Good for throwing, you say?" _Tom said, "_A tree would most likely feel your wrath than the person before you."_

"Bugger off, Tom." However, in his defence, taking up residence in the cupboard could make one's understanding on the outside world dim. Cellphone? Harry had no clue how to operate one.

So how was he supposed to save himself this time without magic? Weapons could help, but then again, Harold doesn't own one. Martial arts? If Lady Luck was feeling generous enough, then the best Harry could manage was a good punch on the face that would render someone unconscious. To summarize it all, he was left with little to none options.

"_It must have been hard in your position, Harry. No one with genius intellect to help you figure this out and no one to back you up?" _Tom taunted with his best pitiying voice, sounding quite pleased with all of Harry's stress, _"If I were you, I'd start using that gift we always have."_

Snorting in reply, "Too bad Tom, I am not you." Harry did not even bothering to object Tom's jibe regarding his Ron and Hermione.

It was noon and Harry was casually walking by himself. Most were sitting on a diner eating or still at work that few people were littering the streets. There wasn't many who'd see and tag Harry as partially sane for taking to himself.

Tom hummed and Harry couldn't tell if his guest agreed or not with him. "_Perhaps, or did you forget that I am half of your soul? Or did you forget that the Sorting Hat itself wanted to put you in Slytherin?"_

"Don't be ridiculous. The Hat wanted me there because he must have sensed your presence in me."

"_You make a valid point." _Tom said and Harry could feel him pacing in his mind, "_But if I wasn't with you, how would you explain all the lies and deception you made to avoid your professors and detention? That's quite a Slytherin side you got there."_

"I…" Harry paused to think of reasons. The chilly September air was starting to get on Harry's skin as he forced down a shiver."It was pure instinct."

"_Yes. Yes it is."_ Harry heard Tom chuckling, he would even go as far as saying that the latter was giving him an impression of patting his back like an old colleague welcoming a friend. But the thing was, Tom was anything but a friend. _"It's a Slytherin instinct. The power to use and manipulate words is a great advantage, Harry. Couple it with sharp wit, you can evade any sword this world can offer. The style is more sophisticated that the barbarian way of fighting muggles get themselves into."_

"Just like what you're doing right now, is that what you mean?" Harry said, completely unfazed with Tom, "You, Tom, is still a part of Voldemort and I won't let you manipulate me that easily."

"_And what reason is there for me to do that? You are a blinded by what I am, can you not see I am helping you? You, yourself, said so that you're running out of alternatives and I gave you a choice." _Harry knew that Tom was just having a hard time staying calm, if the latter wasn't stuck on his mind, then Harry was pretty sure he'd _Avada Kedavra _Harry within a split second.

"Fantastic," Harry sighed heavily as he hastened his walk towards the doorsteps of his house. "Because, currently? I am left your option and no other good options." Who knew having a conversation with your mind could speed up the process of reaching his destination. His humble abode actually had a lengthy distance from the café, yet he managed to arrive at his house five minutes earlier.

"_So what? You mustn't tell lies because of that pink contemptible amphibian said so? And I thought you're a Gryffindor! Those lions are known for their rebellious bravery." _Harry had never felt insulted before. He was half tempted to scream profanities at Tom but that would just give the latter a satisfaction Harry would rather not let Tom indulge. He grumbled in reply instead. Plus, this place wouldn't want a mentally disordered person walking along the 'dangerous' streets and would send him off to a 'safer' location.

"_It's better than having none at all." _Tom let out a breath, the action itself showed just how tired his guest was at Harry. _"If it helps, then, I recommend meditation. Start reaching out to that dormant magic core and rouse it awake." _

Harry refrained from replying as he found himself grabbing his wallet where Harold always kept his door key. It was not exactly the ideal place to hide the only thing that could manage the house locked and safe, but Harry guessed it would suffice seeing as he had no better idea where to keep it.

Buying time as he pushed the door open and stepped inside, Harry's gaze immediately met the box – Jack delivered – greeting him, sitting innocently on his coffee table. As if the 'Handle With Care' sign stamped on every faces of the box was mocking Harry to keep it from enemies hands. Maybe Luna purposely did that to remind Harry that someone wanted the serum desperately.

"What's so special about you…" The steps Harry took towards the box were agonizingly slow, as if he was proceeding it with utmost caution. He stared at the vials laying inside, thinking why on Merlin's beard _'Nargles'_ would go so far as killing Luna just for the serum. Harold knew nothing about it or its contents, yet it already proposed him in a great trouble similar to how a broken glass and a black cat would cause someone bad luck.

Picking vial CO, Harry measured it mentally altogether putting Harold's scientifically-engineered memories to a test. The serum's yellowish shade was pale that light could easily pass through it. It looked like it contained pee instead to most people but Harold knew better. This serum was made by Dr. Abraham Erskine with the help of Luna and it was important. Harry would even go for priceless. So far, that was the best memory Harold had, nothing else.

Taking a seat on one of his couches, Harry let his mind wander concerning Steve. In all honesty, it reminded Harry of himself. He may not have illness or disorders for him to suffer but he felt weak at all times. At least there was always his magic to help him and everyone out, but Steve…

Just by looking at the blonde made him want to lend out a hand. According to Harold's memories, he'd seen Steve couple of times getting beaten by bullies trying to fight them off and defend the victim. An admirable trait. Bucky would then come around and chase those bullies away. Perhaps that was one of the reason as to why Harold felt compelled to befriend young Steve Rogers. His heart was bigger than his.

And it would decimate the strong foundation Harold built up seeing Steve try and try signing up for the army only to get rejected.

Harry smiled sadly. If Steve got the chance to join, the training would be harsh, intense and the wizard's pretty sure he'd be nursing Steve every single day and the blonde would then refuse, as expected. What kind of a doctor he was if he can't even heal his friend?

"_I see you are getting comfortable in this world. Lovely…" _Tom said, smirking. _"How would you fare when we get back on our world?"_

"Your voice is making my ears bleed, Tom. Do shut up."

"_Ah, it hasn't yet. So I won't 'shut up' as you put it so nicely." _There are times when Harry can quiet down the devil on his shoulder. Unfortunately for the wizard, said devil reached a higher new level, now residing on his mind leaving him wishing that Tom would just shut his cakehole.

Groaning, he leaned back at let his weary head rest on the pillow and drawled, "What is it that you waaaant?"

"_Your magic," _Abruptly stated, Tom went straight to the point, _"All wizards were born with a magic core, its amount depends on strength – willpower – of the person."_

"Even squibs?" Harry asked, he hadn't learnt this from Hermione.

"_Even squibs." _He repeated in agreement. _"What I am trying imply on that inch-sized brain of yours is that, the stronger the willpower is, the bigger the core is. At this moment, you and I knew nothing as to why your core diminished. At any rate, the squibs I knew could do simple charms wherein you, Harry, can't even summon a _Tempus_ spell."_

Harry just had to roll his eyes on that. He was completely aware of how weak he was, however, hearing it from Tom irritated Harry so much he snapped, "What I am supposed to do? Gather my willpower and wake up my hibernating magic core? It's not that easy."

"_That's why it's called willpower, idiot."_ Tom said gritting his teeth in frustration,_ "Giving up that easily will not bring your magic back! I grew tired of your obstinacy, Potter. I offered you a choice: deceive the enemy wherein you scoffed at it since your Gryffindor side said so. And now, I'm trying to help you win your magic back to deliver you from danger in which you imbecile rolled your eyes in annoyance! With that colossal amount of stubbornness you possess, I guess… What's the saying children these days say? 'Kiss that luck goodbye', perhaps?" _

Clutching his hands, Harry was amazed how durable the vial was. Tom was being in his infuriating persona and the poor serum got to suffer from Harry's bottled rage. Fortunately, it never gave signs of being damaged although it did turn Harry's knuckles white. He couldn't exactly deny Tom's accusations because what he accounted for was true. Harry was indeed being stubborn, but, for a reason. Voldemort was a lying bastard, spewing poisoned words and promises whenever he felt like it. Cruel, mad, spiteful… It was corruption at its peak, staining anyone who'd been close with it and Harry refused to be turned into that kind of man.

A man of hate.

There was a thud, sounds of glasses shattering and barrels being turned over. It reached Harry's ears, causing him to draw a sharp intake of breath at the sudden commotion, effectively waking him up from his ruminating train of thought. Based from the noise, it highly suggested a theft was happening at this moment, however, Harry sensed a different occurrence when his body acted right away upon hearing another thud – closer this time. The conversation he had with the two moments ago immediately came in to his mind as Harry started sealing the box with a plastic tape, leaving no air in and out.

_The serum…_

Those thieves couldn't have possibly pieced his relationship with Luna this early. And they certainly had no magic to simply activate a _Point Me _spell to locate him just days after Luna's death. This is the 1935, goodness, were advance computers already built in this time to point out his current direction? But then again, Harry knew nothing of this world, he could only shrug.

…_must keep it hidden._

Cold sweat trickled down his forehead and Harry didn't even bother wiping it. There was panic present and anxiety as the thuds came louder and closer.

It was Harold's pure instinct that led Harry in the kitchen, completely and utterly confused as he found himself hastily opening the fridge and going for a Magnolia **(1) **container that had its vanilla contents thawed. Harry had to admit that it confused him to no end as his autopilot body seemed to approve of its condition.

Just what was happening?

Harry heard an angry barrage of knocks making his heart to skip a beat in apprehension. The uneasiness coiling his stomach was killing him, like butterflies invading his abdomen except these insects have razors for wings. He bit his lips to calm him down, achieving little wonders as he tried to concentrate on his work. The box he received from Luna was small and it would obviously fit the container well without its contents piling up to overflow.

Burying the box was no problem for Harry, the sweetened cream easily spread over the surface, entirely covering the 'Handle With Care' face. He smiled at the result; Harold sure knew how to hide and preserving important things such as this discreetly – the cream would eventually reach its freezing point causing less movement for the box and the vials inside.

Hopefully, the assailants wouldn't be hungry and bother checking up his precious ice cream.

A shrill voice screamed and Harry gasped at the sharpness. But the wizard couldn't care less as he put on the lid of the container just at the same time his poor door was blasted into pieces. Dust and smoke filled his living room. He caught a brief sight of his couch suffered scratched from the explosion as it caught wood debris.

Wasting no more time, Harry carefully – or rather, tried to be careful – threw the container inside the freezer with its bottom hitting the ice and skidding to a stop. He just wished that none of the vials were broken, but if it were… Harry cringed at the thought, if the vials were broken, then he hoped Luna would forgive him.

Heavy footsteps intruded his quarter, forwarding towards his spot made Harry grab for the nearest knife Harold's kitchen had to offer. A split second of tactical thinking was there to earn him the thought of shortcoming he possessed. Harry may not grow up knowing much of the muggle system, but according from the weight of his situation, the trespassers were a part of the military.

A man drabbed in dark blue armour blocked his line of sight and Harry threw his knife unhesitatingly going straight for the man's neck.

There was a pained cry, gurgling sounds that assured Harry that he managed to hit the man while flipping his dining table causing a loud thud to resonate. More hostile men went running inside and by looking at the corpse, the attackers brought guns and would certainly use it on Harry.

Two men replace their fallen comrade and stepped on his kitchen as Harry shoved the table forward, effectively hitting them on their abdomen and surprising the pair in confusion. His battle-honed character dutifully ignored the ache of his shoulders from the push he gave the table as Harry faced the nearest man.

His hand sneaking up to seize the man's head, screaming in fury as he sent it crashing down meet the corner of the table. This was Harry's first time to shed blood with the use of his hands and he couldn't help but think that Tom was right, this type of bloody barbarous. Harry then hurled the injured man he was holding away towards the other with all the force his arms could muster.

Breathing heavily, he snatched the gun lying on his bloody kitchen floor and tried to aim it on the other man's chest. It was a long gun with a sleek long metal tube and Harry knew nothing how to handle it properly but pulled the trigger anyways.

The butt of the gun hit Harry's chest at the force a firing gun made, just another proof how he could harm himself when guns aren't correctly handled, but it did hit its target.

Harry sighed. He was getting exhausted and his muscles screamed in protest. Not to mention his mind was in need of therapy after seeing more blood than usual. Honestly, Harry chose facing _Avada Kedavra _curses in battle than guns and knives. And nuclear bombs. Harry cringed at the thought of how that bomb had the power to eradicate a small city.

A slow clapping was all Harry heard to snap his attention back at present.

Standing, watching him from his ruined living room was a man in between his thirties. A formal military uniform contradicted the clothing of the men behind him, similar to the three men beside Harry. He was clapping, mockingly applauding the violent way he acted moments ago like it was a show.

Harry glared, his emerald eyes showing its intensity as his hands gripped the only weapon he got.

"Doctor aren't considered one when they showcase such violent actions, Dr. Norwood." He said, his accent laced with false fondness and formality making him looked more like a politician to Harry than a general of an army. "They are… gentle individuals. They treat rather than harm people. Much like what your superior is."

His glare deepened, his face showing the righteous fury boiling within him. Hesitation was not in Harry's mind when he aimed the gun at the direction of the general, uncaring if it was not handled properly or if it would hurt him again. The hurt the felt seeing Luna's pale and glassy eyes were more painfully than the shoulder and chest ache he would experience from mishandling a measly gun as Harry asked coldly, "Who are you and what do you want?" His gaze never wavered nor left the assailant as his fingers shivering in anticipation to set the gun off.

The man nodded, almost as if affirming the way Harry treated him, "Straight up to the point, as expected." He then went on forward, taking a lazy single step approaching Harry. "Johann Schmidt. And you see, doctor, _you_ have something what I want."

Harry gulped, his throat dry at thinking how the man knew about the serum's existence with him, but Harry wasn't about to give Schmidt a clue. Acting innocent, Harry voiced out, shaking his head in false confusion, "I don't know what you're talking about."

Schmidt halted in his tracks, confirming what just Harry stated, "You're right. What could a doctor of medicine possibly want to do with an unstable chemist's work… The Super Serum, do you have an idea what it is, doctor?"

_So that what it's called,_ Harry thought. However, according to Schmidt, it appeared like Schmidt had no idea the serum was currently with Harry safe and untouched. "No. Sounds like an antidote for some _super _bad diseases. Why? Another Black Plague about to occur?"

Harry was a little bit satisfied for he could see beyond Schmidt's eyes how he fought off the annoyance at hearing the wizard's nonchalant voice and attempt to make a joke. The latter turned his back at Harry, choosing to saunter towards the bookshelf containing Harold's photos of his friends and medical books.

There was a pause as no one moved. Harry still aiming the gun at Schmidt's direction whilst his soldiers didn't even bothered to budge from their military position. It actually made them look stiff. For a moment, Harry thought he caught Schmidt staring intently at Bucky and Steve's graduation photo before saying, "Not an antidote, no. I'd like you to think of it more like a… an enhancer."

"To enhance what?"

Peeling his inquiring eyes from his bookshelf, Schmidt focused on Harry. A smile starting to stretch on his face, "Everything."

Harry's eyebrows furrowed, his visage creasing as he held the gun dearly all ready to fire it just to protect himself, "And what does it had to do with me?"

"Ah." Schmidt sighed, "Aren't you tired from all these questionings?"

"No. Just answer me!" Harry screamed, clearly agitated on what was happening. He got the idea that the general wanted something from him, thus, the sudden intrusion. So what was Schmidt playing, talking to Harry and wasting his time when he could have his men kill him beforehand?

"You have something else I require."

"You already said that and I'll repeat. _What is it that you want?_" Harry growled, making his point clear at the emphasis he stated. "If it's information regarding the Super Serum, then I have no use to you. I am a physician not a chemical engineer."

"I am relatively aware of that." He heard the Schmidt chuckle as if toying around was bringing him joy, "And it's not information, I have it already. What I need is your skills, doctor…"

Harry scoffed at that. Yeah right, skills. Harold had all that talent, not Harry. Schmidt got the wrong man. But on the other hand, Harry was Harold in this world. Oh bugger.

Schmidt was only a few feet away. He could pull the trigger and kill the man – and would most likely end up dead later on. But at least, Luna's death would be avenged.

"Just your skills…"

A short, pained gasp escaped out from Harry's throat just before Schmidt was finished what his sentence. He could feel a sharp sensation at the back of his shoulder, numbing his nerves. All of Schmidt's conversation was a ploy, planned to keep him distracted from this kind of attack. And Harry fell for it. That man gave him vague information regarding his uninvited visit but Schmidt did say what he wanted. It was him.

Gasping for breath, his hand went for his shoulders trying to find out what caused the pain. His fingers were somewhat shaking but caught a syringe-like material injected on him and plucked it out without hesitation. Its needle was long and was dripping with clear, fairly thick substance that was currently on his body.

_A sedative… _

His knees buckled at the weighty feeling travelling within Harry, causing him to drop his hold on the gun and syringe. By now, it was getting harder and harder for Harry to stand upright as if he was carrying a massive load of metal on his back. Black spots started to dance his vision, dimming and blurring his sight.

All Harry wanted right now was to hurl back an angry reply. He hated Schmidt for luring him into this, but nothing came out as his body dropped on the ground, heavy and numb. He heard only static when Harry tried to hear what was happening around just to keep himself busy from apprehensive at his situation.

He should have been _extra careful_ even from the beginning to prevent him from falling into this kind of trap. But now, the losing the fight against the melodious voice on his head trying to lull him in oblivion, urging him coaxing him to sleep.

**o.o.o.o.o**

**Author's Notes****: Happy Halloween everyone! Did you go out trick-or-treating or having a blast party with your costume? Yes? Because I did! It was quite fun seeing my nephew drag me around and asking for candies. Haha! **

**Unfortunately, fun ends soon. My school starts its new semester, meaning…? New schedule. Honesty, I am not quite pleased with the schedule I received so I spent most of my time complaining in despair. *wails* You do know what this means right?**

**I… actually lost my notes regarding this chapter so I had to make a new one and relate it from those two previous chapters. Hmp, caused me a lot of stress trying to look for it. **

**(1) Magnolia is a Philippine ice cream brand and I just put it in the story because that's the only brand I know. Heh.**

**Hooray to **_gigihenry28_ **(you win a virtual cookie ^_^v) for figuring out those codes and to those who tried and suffered from headache. Haha! **

**Thanks for all the reviews I received, may your dreams be blessed with rainbows and candies!**


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